Still Learning to Love
by Molly.Hoopers.Toby
Summary: Sherlock puts together the pieces and realizes he has feelings for his pathologist. Months after dealing with the new emotions he decides to confront her. Sherlolly. (This is my first fanfiction. I am so sorry if it sucks. Thank you for reading though. Reviews will be much appreciated.)
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

Sherlock watched _her _from afar, his eyes intent on making himself nonexistent. Molly Hooper; a seemingly innocent, intelligent, clumsy pathologist, but Sherlock had started to believe she was so much more than she allowed the detective to see. Molly now sat on a bench near a massive oak that spread widely over her, covering her like an umbrella. She seemed..._lonely. _Yes, he _knew_ she was much more then what he'd originally thought. He just needed to solve the puzzle that was Molly Hooper.

Sherlock felt a cold dot fall onto his nose and looked up to see that the dim blue sky was now an astonishing shade purple with streaks of pink and flurries fluttering about. He stared for a minute before remembering what he was doing here, before the snowfall had begun. _Molly. _

Sherlock brought his attention back to his quirky pathologist's distant figure and she was off. Wait, what? _His_ pathologist? Sherlock shook the thought away and stored it away in his mind palace. Not bothering to over think a plan, Sherlock directed himself to Molly's side as he ran from behind a shrub.

"Molly!" he called. Although it was out of his routine to see Molly outside of work, or occasionally special events, today was different. This occasion was something Sherlock had thought over countless time. He needed to tell her how he..._felt._

Sherlock bit his tongue as the word crossed his mind. Yes, he was not very familiar with emotions, but Molly had changed his mind on the subject. After spending more and more time with her after his fall he had forced himself to consider the facts that were explained by John and Mary; He may be in love with Molly Hooper. He also had to consider, that _maybe_, sentiment was not a chemical defect, but fortitude.

The young woman turned to face him as he called her name again.

"Molly Hooper!" He took a moment to catch his breath when he finally reached her. "Hello" he waved tiredly, placing his hands back on his knees as he stuck his head between his long legs.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked concerned. Her hair was out in waves, and she wore a bright red beanie that matched her oversized jumper. Her tight jeans were ragged, and her tall, fitted boots reached an inch above her knees and matched her eyes almost exactly.

"You look" Sherlock decided to look her over once more "well." He was disappointed that that was the best compliment he could muster up. Molly looked, well, different. Her clothing was much more fashionable than her normal attire. She usually wore dull khakis and ill patterned jumpers. _Did Sherlock really make her that self conscious?_ Maybe she felt better because no one would be there to tell her that she was trying to "compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts." Sherlock shuddered at the horrid Christmas memory. He could feel the guilt rising in his throat.

Sherlock's disturbing thoughts were interrupted when she spoke.

"Sherlock? Are you okay?" She asked, gently. Sherlock smiled and lifted his head from between his knees, brushing the light snow from his coat. "What are you doing here?"

Sherlock seemed almost offended. Molly's face was clear from what she called on her blog _Sherlockian Syndrome._ Her cheeks were not bright pink from constant blushing, her pupils weren't dilated, she wasn't stuttering, nor were her fingers fiddling with her jumper. She was normal. The normal Molly Hooper. The Molly Hooper Sherlock had never seen before. Yes, she had improved greatly by having to spend more time with him after his _death._ He stayed at her flat when he had nowhere else, but she still had the signs when he would brush against her for mere seconds, or maybe say something with a deep tone of voice. Maybe John was right. Maybe Molly Hooper, was trying, _and_ achieving her goal of getting over him. Maybe his emotions kicked in too late. Maybe he had already lost _his Molly._ Maybe she was no longer _his._

Before Sherlock could get his thoughts under control and try not to zone out again, Molly had already turned to leave. Before he could lose her for good, he caught her shoulders and pulled her to face him. "Molly, would you like to come over to my flat?" He blurted and Molly gave a confused look.

"Um, excuse me? Sherlock, are you sure you didn't hit your head on the pavement back there?" she pointed to a small park rounded with sidewalks. "Have you been drinking? Please don't tell me you are back on some sort of dr-"

"No! I'm not!" Sherlock reassured her as he shook her shoulders gently. "I want you to come. Isn't that what friends do? They come over to each other flats and do things. What things would you like to do Molly?" Sherlock questioned. He really should have done some more research on friendships on John's laptop before stalking Molly. He only had the information he had inherited from memories with John. Most of them involved things Sherlock enjoyed, since John had accepted the fact that he wouldn't change long ago.

Molly took Sherlock's hands and placed them onto his chest before letting go. He could tell she was trying hard to keep her distance. "Sherlock, I'm not mad. I told you before, Tom was a bloody git. I would have never thought he was another one of Moriarty's gunmen. I guess I have a thing for serial killers and their associates." _Or, you still have a thing for me. I am not a serial killer; therefore, they are not strictly your type_ Sherlock thought aggressively.

"It has been quite clear that I am forgiven." Sherlock said as Molly began to turn back to her path. "Am I really that inhumane?" Molly looked at him and nodded in response. "Molly, please just come with me. I just want to be a friend." Molly stopped in her tracks before they had even started. "I know I have been a complete arse to you for as long as I have known you, but I'm still learning to love. I have only begun. I still stumble at the sight of emotion, but I do not believe love is a complete defect anymore. Not since you. Please, Molly Hooper, prove me wrong."

Molly stood still. Sherlock could see she was bewildered by the speech. She stayed like so for a few minutes and then slowly pivoted to his direction. "Why now? When did I start to count?" She began "Sherlock, please don't do this. Don't pull me back down into that deep, dark hole again. I have accepted the fact that you will never change. Not for me. Not for anyone."

Sherlock held her hands and looked her in the eyes. "You're wrong you know. You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you." With that, Sherlock kissed Molly's cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Molly watched Sherlock as his hands reached for hers._ Maybe_, she thought, maybe he was being sincere. His voice had become sorrowful when he spoke.

_ "You're wrong you know. You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you."_

The same words. He'd used the same words. Molly felt herself collect and knit them together; forming a picture, a memory of Sherlock telling her he was going to die. He was quoting himself from a time when he was, ever so possibly, showing emotion. Molly almost laughed to herself for thinking it. _Sherlock Holmes and emotions? Pfft. Never. That time was different. He was leaving people he loved. He was leaving family. _She no longer felt like laughing. After all, Molly was not included in that bunch.

Sherlock's lips touched her cheek and she instantly froze as he pulled back. Molly kept her gaze low as her skin grew hot.

"You are correct." Molly eyes welled with tears as she listened._ He was reading her._ "You are not included." Sherlock said. Tears slowly trickled from her eyes as she silently stared at a now blurry Sherlock and the pain in her chest that had been locked away for months now returned. A pang of sadness, and hatred, hit her when she realized that Sherlock Holmes had finally, officially rejected her.

All has been said and done, she thought. Molly turned to leave, though not before giving Sherlock a whip from her now shaking hand. His pale completion made the oozing red on his cheekbone even more noticeable. She bit the inside of her cheeks and turned away, not daring to look back even when she felt her arm being pulled. "You are not included for a reason." He said. Molly almost thought she heard a hint of guilt. _Impossible._ "You are not my friend, Molly Hooper. Nor are you my family. I have come to the conclusion that you are so much more."

Molly still kept her back towards him, afraid to bring her hopes up.

"What do you mean, Sherlock? Please, just spit it out." Her voice was raspy and she felt a strong urge to punch him square in the jaw as his hand crept up her arm.

"Molly I-I see-em" Sherlock muttered. "Tuh-to, um, care for you." Her heart beating loudly in her chest, Molly quietly giggled at the switch of places. Oddly enough, He was now the stutterer, and she the dominant. When she finally looked at him, he seemed relieved. "I sound like a blabbering fool, don't I?" Sherlock murmured.

"A blabbering fool you have become indeed. Now, I need you to finish up or else I'll have to give in to the impulse I have to punch that pretty face of yours." Molly snickered, feeling elated. Sherlock smirked and now held onto both of her upper arms seemingly impressed by her newfound confidence.

"I care for you. Not in the way I care for John, or , or even my brother." Sherlock stammered again. "I know it may not seem like much for you to hear, but this is what I have come to terms with. I know there aren't the three words you have dreamt of me saying, but these are the words I have come to understand. I know how it works chemically but-Molly, what I am trying to say is..." Molly shrugged his arms off of her and hugged him.

"I understand." Molly looked up from their embrace and stared into those crystalline eyes. His eyes softened and she caught a glimpse of his smile before he kissed her forehead. Molly closed her eyes as his warm lips were placed half on her skin, and half on her beanie.

"Thank you Molly Hooper." Sherlock let out an appeased sigh "for understanding." Molly put the side of her face back onto his chest and breathed soundly, though her knees still shook. She couldn't believe she had her face on his chest. _Sherlock Holme's chest is next to my face! _She now had every intention of freaking out once she reached her apartment. And that was before Sherlock began to stroke her hair. She shuddered from the unforeseen contact. "Now, what would you say to my flat right now? We both seem to be cold and we have been standing here for about ten minutes. I don't think getting you a frost bite would help you forgive me either."

"Your flat sounds wonderful right now" Molly murmured, then froze, realizing what she'd said. _Idiot!_ God, she became such a bampot around him. Leaving his chest, Molly looked up at him. "I don't mean in the way you might be thinking. I-I mean, it-it's cold, and your flat is wa-warm. And-"

"Don't fret. No need to jumble up your words. I too understand." Sherlock nodded towards the park exit. Molly felt her cheeks turn extra red from the combination of blushing and the cold. "Or I try my best to. Hopefully I am close enough. Now, come along." Sherlock took a step back, bowed and let out his hand. She took his gracefully with a giggle and curtsied, stretching her jumper. Sherlock began to walk along to the gate exit of the park with Molly still in hand. Neither of them talked the entire way.

Molly loved Sherlock, she really did and during the walk back, she replayed their exchange in her head, feeling overjoyed. Maybe Molly was used to being manipulated, rejected, or maybe Sherlock's natural tendency to not trust without overanalysing rubbed off on her. Either way, as the evening walk wore on, Molly's joy slowly but surely turned to doubt. _What if he was lying?_ No, John and Mary wouldn't let him. John always warned her about him being an arse, saying he couldn't change. Saying that he wasn't aware of the pain she would receive from his recklessness. Molly's insides churned. She warily peeked at Sherlock from behind her curtain of hair and instantly looked away when he noticed.

The two were now at an unknown street and Sherlock caught a cab and bounced in after opening the door for Molly. Still the silence stuck. Molly felt her phone vibrate and, grateful for the distraction, she grabbed it from her jean pocket and opened it up hurriedly.

_I'm not lying. – SH_

Molly took another glance at Sherlock, who looked highly amused. He must have seen her reaction.

_I know. – MH_

_You doubt my actions. – SH_

_Who wouldn't? – MH_

_True. – SH_

_Very. – MH_

_I'll have to prove it then? Here it goes. Prepare yourself, Miss Hooper. – SH_

Molly simpered at her phone. She had nothing to doubt so far. Well, other than the fact that Sherlock Bloody Holmes was _showing emotion. _And of all the people, _she_ was the subject of them. Sherlock paid the cabbie and they walked up to 221B. _Here it goes. _


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Sherlock wordlessly unlocked the door and held it open for Molly. Not bothering to take off his coat, he strode toward his flat, Molly at his heels, when Mrs. Hudson caught sight of them.

" Ooh, where have you been dear? John has been looking for you everywhere! And Molly darling! Come inside. I'll go make you two a cuppa. You'll need it." Molly gave her a peppy smile while Sherlock continued on upstairs, still linked to Molly.

"We won't be here long, ." Sherlock called without missing a step. Molly frowned as they stepped into his apartment and grabbed his violin.

"We won't?" Molly asked. Sherlock put his free arm around her waist and he felt her turn to stone. Her cheeks were once again red.

Sherlock lifted his violin for her to see. "I only wanted to grab this. I want to prove a theory regarding something I've heard from 's."

"A theory? Really? With your violin?" Molly looked confused, though resigned. She was used to his odd experiments and anyway, she'd understand once they got to her flat.

"Come. We are going to go catch another cab and get to your apartment." Molly's cheeks stayed red and she began to play with the end of her jumper. She was also trying hard to hide a smile, trying not to fantasize. She was adorable when she did that. Sherlock didn't even bother to wave the thought away. He cared for Molly Hooper. He now accepted this. The feelings would take awhile to get used to, but it shouldn't be anything his great mind couldn't manage.

They both jumped into a cab and headed straight for Molly's apartment, leaving the cabbie with a tip. Hopping onto the elevator, Sherlock began to deduce people in the elevator, murmuring silently so only Molly could hear. She laughed and rolled her eyes until they finally got to her door. "The poor woman. So she only realised?" She giggled, unable to control her laugher.

"I'm afraid so. Now open up the door so I may test my theory." Sherlock said holding Molly's shoulders as she keyed at her lock.

"May I know what this theory is?" Molly asked as they entered her apartment. It was clean, brightly colours and well furnished. The walls were bright yellow, with hints of blue and white. At the end corner of the living area, beside the balcony, there was a massive, white piano. Well cared for, passed down by generations and played often. Sherlock pointed at the piano.

"Oh. That's nothing. I don't know what Bart's people are talking about. It's just for decoration." Molly stuttered. "But then again, you are Sherlock Holmes. You must very well know that isn't true." Sherlock gave a toothy smiled and she burst out laughing. "Fine, I will. But promise me you will play with me. That has to be why you brought your violin. Wouldn't be fair to leave it out, now would it?" Sherlock wordlessly took off Molly's coat and his own, placing them on the row of hooks beside the front door.

"I wouldn't dream of it any other way" He said softly. Molly sat down at her piano and threw her beanie off. She took a deep breath and searched for what he guessed was the music, along with the lyrics. She put them up and stared for a minute.

"You dream?" She then looked at Sherlock. He had his violin in hand and nodded. She placed her small hands on the keys. Getting used to their feeling.

"I do from time to time. Most of them involve unsolved cases, murders...and now, you tend to pop up every now and again." Sherlock watched Molly let out a giggle. She _still_ did not believe him. He couldn't blame her. He had ignored her for so long, it must have seemed impossible.

She was nervous, he noticed. Her hands were shaking. He sat beside Molly so that he faced the wall behind her. "We will play together. He gave her a peck on the cheek and Molly gave a soft smile back. She began to play at once.

The slightly spaced notes that were from the beginning of the song danced from the instrument. Sherlock came in seconds after. When he'd heard the rumor of Molly's talents, he'd decided to listen to the song that was apparently a favourite of hers. He'd enjoyed the melody and had been curious to hear her play, and possibly play with her. He was startled from his thoughts when Molly's gentle voice seized his attention, all other thoughts blown away.

_There is a house built out of stone_

_Wooden floors, walls and window sills_

_Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust_

_This is a place where I don't feel at home_

_This is a place where I feel at home_

The notes were getting louder and faster. Sherlock was still amazed. He then focused on Molly's voice again. The elegance of it was heartwarming. She swiftly eyed him and he did the same, their sides touching.

_ And I built a home_

_For you_

_For me_

_Until it disappeared_

_From me_

_From you_

_And now it's time to leave and turn to dust..._

Sherlock looked beside himself and his nose touched Molly's cheek. She gave a lively smile and tiled her head so it no longer touched. She stopped her playing and then started her slow rhythm again. After that, her words caught up. She swayed smoothly. Sherlock played without looking at his violin. Molly was beautiful when she played. She was so happy. Sherlock felt as if a small knife had stabbed itself into his stomach. He made her so sad. He made her unhappy. He could only hope he could change this. Maybe he could. Maybe he could be the source of Molly's happiness now.

**Authors Note:**

**I do not own The Cinematic Orchestra or the song "To Build a Home".**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Molly finished the song and turned to look at Sherlock, who'd already turned to face her. Their noses bumped and they both looked away, rubbing at their injuries, both giving each other a curt sorry. Molly stood up and went to the other side of her piano. "What did you think?" Molly seemed proud, looking Sherlock in the eyes.

"It was beautiful. I wish I had deduced your talent earlier." Sherlock admitted and she blushed uncontrollably, knowing that, coming from Sherlock, this was a high compliment indeed. He left his seat and plopped his violin on her couch. Molly followed but couldn't help but to twiddle her thumbs and look down, avoiding his blue-green eyes. Sherlock's long fingers touched the end of her chin and lifted her head. She still looked down at their feet. "Molly, I mean it. You are not something I will ever take advantage of again. Please believe I adore you."

"Adore? I thought you cared. Difference, no?" Molly giggled quietly. 'Adore' was a weird word to hear him say. _So weird._ Sherlock nodded yes and sat down beside his violin. She felt her stomach rumble. "You hungry? I can whip up something if you want." Molly walked to her small kitchen, Sherlock at her heels.

"I don't know of any cases today. Lestrade would have texted me. Today is for you and you alone Molly Hooper." Sherlock gave a rare smile, resting his hands on her hips and she thought she might scream. Sherlock was saying such non-Sherlockian things. God she hoped she never woke up from this dream. "I'll take tea." He finally said. Molly bit her lip, pulling away from him to start the kettle. She took out milk and sugar, then plopped tea bags into two cups. One was a mint green-blue with a deep purple bowtie, and the other was a light pink one with a print of Toby. Molly looked back at Sherlock, who was now sitting on the couch. He was watching Toby sniff him suspiciously. She shook her head at the two.

Molly brought the two cups of tea and gave Sherlock the bowtie cup, still abusing her bottom lip. Sherlock looked at it and turned it in his hand. "Interesting. Black, two sugars?" he looked up as her she nodded and gave a tempting smile. They drank their tea in silence.

When Molly finished, Toby stopped interrogating Sherlock and leaped onto her lap, purring happily as she made circles down his spine.

Minutes later the tabby was fast asleep. Molly took the cat from her lap and placed him in his little basket. As she got up she twirled around and was startled by how close Sherlock was.

"Sorry" he whispered. "I was wondering if I could see your room. To discover more about my mousy pathologist. I clearly do not know as well as I thought I did. You have become much more" he paused to read her face, "complex as you start to show more and more of who you _really_ are."

Molly froze at his question. He wanted to see _her bedroom._ Ok, she needed to calm down. She gave a curt nod and led him to her bedroom (God that sounded strange!) Sherlock must have read her thoughts as he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She opened her door attentively and waited for Sherlock to step in.

"You enjoy your job; your textbooks are shelved on the second highest shelf. They are only slightly worn out. You hardly use them anymore since you are an expert in the subject." Sherlock's fingers grazed over the bookshelf and continued his deduction. "On the highest shelf are your romance novels. You are a typical romantic. You have them this high up so they are safe from faithless hands. They have developed extremely worn out spines. You read one per week. A few chapters before bed, since there is a space here, you have one beside your bed." Molly rolled her eyes. "You're room is dark purple. You have a liking for the colour." Molly's cheeks burned. They both knew why. "Repainted only three or four months ago from my telling."

Before Sherlock delved any deeper, Molly stepped in. "None of these are things you don't know, Sherlock. I don't understand what you're even trying to do in here." Molly coughed.

Sherlock turned to her and came so close she felt his breath on her neck. "I am here to solve the puzzle, that is you, Molly Hooper." He breathed into her ear. Molly stood still while his mouth stayed where it was, now leaving warm breaths on her collar.

"I d-don't understand what you are trying to say, Sherlock." Molly finally huffed. Sherlock left her neck, his face an inch from hers. Molly felt his arms reach for the small of her back.

"Help me understand" Sherlock slowly slid the index finger of his right hand up and down her spine. Molly couldn't focus on her own breathing. "Why you have such faith in me. Why you still stay. Why you still bother to love me, with the belief that I can never love you back."

Molly gulped. "I believed that you said emotions were stupid as an excuse to hide them yourself. I thought, and still think that you are worth loving. I have no real reason why, Sherlock. Maybe I believe _everyone_ should be loved. _Even someone like you." _

Molly turned to the wall behind her and Sherlock's hand stayed, lingering on her waist as she repositioned herself_. _"John and Mrs. Hudson do" she started. "Why can't I? There has to be something that hasn't made them shoot you yet. " Molly looked down at their feet and chuckled lightly. He hugged her close from behind.

"Thank you" he croaked "for believing in me, Molly Hooper. I shall put in my best effort to never have you doubt my care ever again." Sherlock turned her around, cradling her cheek with his right hand and Molly hugged him back. She pulled his face away from the crook of her neck and gave him a loving smile.

"I love you Sherlock Holmes. You may never be able to say the same, but I do and always will. Even if you don't, I too shall put my best effort to never have you doubt my love." Molly then made the bravest, stupidest decision of her life. She kissed him.

Molly pulled at his luscious head of curls and went for his lower lip. Sherlock was surprised at first, but gave in quickly. Molly could tell he hadn't done it before, though he was a fast learner. It was slow and deep, meaningful and loving, broken only when they couldn't put off breathing any longer.

"I care for you, Molly Hooper." Sherlock was breathless. Molly fell backwards onto her bed, and Sherlock did the same. They simply held hands in complete and utter silence from then on. She'd helped Sherlock to care. She made the man who _could not stand_ emotions, care for her. She smiled at the thought and turned to Sherlock. That was good enough for her. That would _always_ be good enough.


End file.
